


Peak

by Acosmiclove



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, comm sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:28:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22112626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acosmiclove/pseuds/Acosmiclove
Summary: On another backwater planet, looking for yet another tomb, Cal finds himself the target of the Second Sister’s comm hacking once again, but this time things take a more...sordid turn.
Relationships: Cal Kestis/Trilla Suduri | Second Sister
Comments: 16
Kudos: 143





	Peak

**Author's Note:**

> I dedicate this quick and shameless one shot to all Caltrilla stans. I wrote this at 1am and I realize it’s plotless and indulgent. Let me live.

The air is thin up here and Cal Kestis finds it hard to focus on the task at hand. Something clouds his judgement beyond the altitude and he can’t seem to shake it. BD-1 warbles in concern as Cal nearly miscalculates a jump across a chasm. His fingers dig painfully into the stone of the ledge he hangs from.

“I’m fine, buddy.” He’s really not, but he doesn’t want to alarm the little droid.

With a huff he scrambles up the cliff face and lies flat on his back at the next ledge. A moment of rest is in order. The mysteries of the tomb he seeks can wait a while longer. The crackle of the comm coming to life in his ear has him briefly worrying about what Cere might have to say. Are she and Greez in trouble? Or does she have some warning for him?

“You’re determined, little padawan, I’ll give you that.”

At the familiar, yet unexpected voice, Cal feels the air leave his lungs. He sits up in a panic, looking around for any sign of the Inquisitor. His fingers hover over where his lightsaber is clipped to his waist. The mountainside is quiet aside from the breeze whistling by. “ _Trilla_...”

“Mmm, you’re afraid?” He hears her chuckle low and dark, “You should be.”

He realizes he’s bit the inside of his cheek. Cal swallows the bitter taste of his own blood. “You’ve come to kill me, I assume?”

A short exhale in his ear. “Kill you? Oh, no...” The hair on the back of his neck stands up, “I can think of far _better_ things to do with you.”

Perhaps it is the fear talking, or maybe something more primal inside him that decides to respond directly to the sordid implications in her tone, “R-Really? And what would those things be?”

An lone avian creature caws in the distance.

Trilla is agonizingly quiet.

Cal sweats.

When she does speak, her tone is daring, “Do you think of me often, padawan? Perhaps in the dark? In your bunk?” A short pause, and he thinks he catches the sound of her breath hitch, “Or in the shower, where you think no one can hear you?”

He’s not an idiot. Her meaning is plain. Cal inhales shakily. His mind is racing as he tries, and futilely fails to temper his emotions. Flashes of his wildest imaginings of her bombard him against his will. Trilla was correct. Cal did think of her. Entirely too often, if he was honest. Not two nights ago he had pathetically mouthed her name into his pillow, hips grinding into the mattress of his bunk as he found his peak. “Uh...” His tongue is dry, “ _Maybe_.”

Her tone is self satisfied. “I knew it.”

There’s no way she could have, he assures himself, but Cal flushes nonetheless. “You sound flattered.”

Trilla laughs, but it isn’t in her usual, condescending manner. “Perhaps I am.”

The fear is still there, lurking beneath the surface, but it can’t seem to override the sudden rush of heat to his lower regions. A shift in dynamic had occurred. Where once he worried over how Trilla would deal out his demise, now he felt excitement in how she might pursue him in another way — one vastly more pleasurable. He is so uncertain of his next words that they nearly sound like a question as they leave his lips. “I... _ah_... seem to be a fixation of yours as well.”

Again, she goes maddeningly silent. Long enough for Cal to think she may have cut the communication. A sick sense of disappointment begins to settle in his gut. When the timbre of her voice finally cuts the silence, it sends a delicious shiver down his spine, “Mmm, perhaps you are.”

Unbidden, Cal pictures the woman running a hand lazily down her uniformed front - fingers dipping between her legs... all to the thought of _him_. He finds that he cannot breathe. Even with the frigid mountain air at his face, he feels hot. Clothing too tight in the most inconvenient way. He feigns to fight what is obviously occurring between them. “Oh. Uh, I’m n-not too sure how I feel about that...”

Her voice is breathy as she replies, “Ah, on the contrary...” He thinks he hears her make a soft noise - he bites his lower lip at the realization of _why_ that might be. “...I think you are _quite_ sure, Cal Kestis.”

The rapturous way she manipulates his name on her lips has Cal leaning back against the cliff wall in near defeat, legs canted apart _just_ so. His fingers itch to slip below his belt and satisfy his basest of needs. “ _Trilla_...”

“Poor thing.” Her tone is one of mock concern. He hates it and loves it all at once. “I feel the conflict in you. Why deny yourself?”

BD-1 has been eerily quiet since this encounter began, and it perches unaffected off to his side. Cal feels his blush deepen, and yet the droid’s presence isn’t enough to stop him from giving in and palming himself through the front of his pants. A tortured sigh passes his lips at the instant gratification the friction brings.

“ _Excellent_.” Trilla praises in a whisper, and Cal can hear her stilted breathes. It’s clear she is seeking her own end as well.

Where is she, he wonders, that she could unabashedly pleasure herself? Somewhere below him, perhaps in one of the abandoned mountain dwellings he’d passed by. He pictures her there, sitting in a dark hovel, uniform peeled open, fevered skin exposed to the elements. Legs shaking imperceptibly as she chases her satisfaction with gloved fingers... Cal groans, eyes falling shut as he tips his head back against the cold stone. “I can _feel_ you.”

Her presence shudders in the Force. He thinks he has a similar reaction when she gasps out, “And I you.”

Just the mere thought of her experiencing his lust secondhand has Cal edging dangerously close to orgasm. In a blind hurry, he undoes his belt, freeing himself from the restraint of his clothing. The air is uncomfortably cool against his length, but he can’t find it in him to care as he wraps his fingers around the base of himself. A lewd gasp is drawn from between his ips as he slowly drags his digits up and down his bare member.

For a time, all that passes between them are moans and half formed words that they will later pretend they never uttered. When Trilla eventually murmurs a string of curses and a dark hum of contentment soon follows — Cal can feel the echo of her orgasm. It’s like a warm shiver across his skin. His motions falter and he grits his teeth as he approaches completion. Trilla seems to know how near he is. “That’s it... all for _me_...” She encourages in a tone so filthy he swears his blush must match his hair.

With a low growl, he comes for her. For a blissful moment, he basks in the haze of pleasure that washes over him. Though it doesn’t last long. Right about the time he begins to realize the reckless absurdity of his actions, Trilla starts to laugh — a sharp juxtaposition to what had just transpired between them. It annoys him and he snaps at her abruptly, “Shut up.”

“Oh, don’t get upset. You enjoyed it.”

Hastily, he tucks himself away. Evidence of his act soils the ground before him and sticks to his fingers. He scowls and wipes his hands on his poncho and stands on shaky legs. BD-1 seems to take that as the queue to crawl back up to Cal’s shoulder. “Why...” He swallows hard, fighting the shame threatening to well within him, and asks the empty air, “Why did you want this?”

She scoffs as if the answer is clear, “I had a need. So did you.”

Cal can’t help but feel slighted. He’s not sure what he expected from her. He probably shouldn’t have expected anything. “You still plan on hunting me.”

“Oh, my dear padawan, the hunt is already over.” Another dark laugh, “My men are nearly at your position as we speak.”

His eyes widen as he only just then becomes aware of the danger closing in on him. Sprinting away up the cliff pathway in a bid to outrun his pursuers, Cal seethes, “This won’t happen again.”

Trilla purrs, “Oh? We shall see.”

He supposes they shall. Especially if he doesn’t find a way to secure his comlink.

Maybe he won’t bother.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m @/acosmiclove on twitter if you want to follow me or shout at me about Caltrilla there.


End file.
